


drew&rick | his friend (1)

by goldpeak



Series: drew&rick | deployment [1]
Category: The Night Shift (TV 2014)
Genre: Army, Coda, Deployment, Drew Alister - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashback, M/M, Pre-Series, Rick Licoln, SOLDIER - Freeform, The Night Shift - Freeform, post-episode, supportive boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11772243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldpeak/pseuds/goldpeak
Summary: A continuation of Drew’s final flashback in episode 4.07 “Keep the Faith.”The wind lashes against the side of the tent and soldiers yell and bicker nearby outside. Drew hears all of it, but he also doesn’t. It’s all toned out, faded to a background noise, and all he can hear is his friend’s screams and the gunfire.





	drew&rick | his friend (1)

**A continuation of Drew’s final flashback in episode 4.07 “Keep the Faith.”**

The wind lashes against the side of the tent and soldiers yell and bicker nearby outside. Drew hears all of it, but he also doesn’t. It’s all toned out, faded to a background noise, and all he can hear is his friend’s screams and the gunfire.

He clutches the CD in his hands as sobs wrack his body, his chest heaving, face wet with tears. He inhales shakily, his breath hitching, and lets out another sharp cry.

_They weren’t fast enough. I’m sorry. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. I’m sorry._

Another sob escapes his throat and he clenches his fists, the blunt edges of his nails digging into his palms. He throws his head back and takes several breaths through bared teeth- anyone could walk into the tent just now- he can’t let himself be seen crying.

He can’t even think _his friend’s_ name. It seems bad to think it, disrespectful, when the owner of that name is now wiped from the earth. His friend’s body wrapped in a bag, in a morgue somewhere on base, soon to be shipped back to the US, to a heartbroken family. Drew can’t say his name.

But, he’s more than just Drew’s friend. He’s other peoples’ friends, someone’s son, maybe someone’s brother, or husband. They all lost someone that day, Drew included- and damnit, he can’t say his name. He can’t think his name.

So, he slams the laptop shut, stuffs it inside his bag with the CD, and scrubs at his eyes until his knuckles are wet and his eyes red and itching. He grabs his bags and moves over to his bunk, grabbing his cellphone out of his bag.

“Please, have reception,” he whispers as it powers on.

One bar.

“Thank God,” Drew sighs.

He needs to talk to someone. He can’t talk to the other soldiers. They’re not close enough, Drew can’t let them see him cry. He only wants to talk to Rick.

Rick. At home, probably asleep, likely with a random show playing in the background, the sound quiet, the TV screen throwing muted colors across the bedroom. Rick’s probably curled up on Drew’s side of the bed, hair ruffled and probably longer than usual because “Drew, I would rather die than let a stranger near my face with scissors,” and that declaration probably still stands, but this time Drew’s not there to cut his hair.

He taps on Rick’s contact name, purposefully doesn’t stare at the contact photo he has set – God, he hopes no one here finds his phone unlocked – and hits the call button. He holds the phone to his ear, sniffles a bit, and prays that Rick picks up.

It takes a few rings, but eventually a sleepy Rick answers.

In the background, the quiet dialogue from what sounds like a rom-com. Rick’s voice laden with tiredness, he says, “Hello?”

Drew laughs a bit breathlessly before replying, “Hey, babe.”

“Drew!” Rick is instantly more awake. There’s the sound of rustling in the background, and then the background dialogue cuts out. “Is everything okay? We weren’t supposed to call until later.”

Drew instantly goes to say ‘it’s fine’ but it’s not, he reminds himself. It’s not fine, because he just lost one of his friends, and he’s not okay.

“Uh- no, everything isn’t okay,” Drew says quietly, almost too quietly, as if admitting it will make everything ten times worse. Nothing happens, but he hears an intake of breath on the other line.

“Are you okay?” Rick clips back, voice tight.

“I’m not injured,” Drew answers carefully. “I-I made it out alright. My friend didn’t.”

A pause. Then, “Oh, Drew.”

Drew chuckles bitterly, rubs at the back of his neck as per his nervous habit – even though Rick can’t see him, no one can, he’s alone – the only soldier mourning.

“They were 10 minutes late. We were taking heavy fire and he got hit and they were 10 minutes late. If they’d showed up on time they’d-.” His voice cracks and he has to take a pause, breathe. “If they’d showed up on time they’d have been able to save him. They were late and now he’s dead and it’s their fault.”

“Drew, baby, stop. Breathe. You’re okay,” Rick soothes, his voice soft and calming and oh God- what Drew would give to be back home now- in Rick’s arms- everything else forgotten. “You did what you could. This isn’t your fault.”

“I-I know it isn’t my fault, Rick, I know it isn’t,” Drew’s voice is down to an almost whisper, unsteady and cracked, laden with mourning. “I didn’t have the equipment, there’s nothing I could’ve done, the equipment was late, they were late, that’s their fault...”

“That’s right. Their fault,” Rick assures. “It’s their fault. You did everything you could.”

“I did,” Drew whispers brokenly. “I did, I did. I did.”

“I know. You haven’t done anything wrong, babe. It’s okay.” Rick murmurs.

Drew can almost picture this conversation face to face. Rick’s hands on Drew’s arms, his head tilted to the side slightly, his shoulders up and tall, eyes concerned. He’d look right into Drew’s eyes with every word and Drew would duck away, look away, and Rick would coax him back up and repeat every word until Drew believed it and then, he’d take Drew into his arms and all Drew’s issues would melt away- but that’s not happening now, because Drew is an ocean away.

“I need you,” Drew mumbles. “I miss you. I need you.”

“I know, baby. Just a few more weeks. You’ve got this. A few weeks and it’ll be over. You’ve got this.” Rick soothes. “You’ll be home in a few weeks.”

Drew feels the tears coming back up his throat and he takes a sharp breath, looks down at his lap. “Y-Yeah.”

Rick pauses, and Drew knows he’s trying to figure out what to say next.

“Margie is suing our landlord.” is the sentence he didn’t expect from Rick.

“W-What?” Drew questions, baffled.

“Yeah, the bathroom pipes leaked and flooded her apartment. Luckily, she isn’t above our apartment, otherwise it’d be flooded. The pipes were too old, landlord was supposed to have them checked. Looks like Margie’s gonna win the suit,” Rick informs, calmly.

Drew knows what he’s doing. Filling Drew in with the mindless domesticity of home, keeping him distracted, involved with what’s at home. He did this when Rick was deployed, too. Told the story of the dog he petted the other day, told him about the name mishap at Starbucks. Mindless domesticity, unimportant in the long run, but comforting in the moment.

“Are her cats okay?” Drew asks.

“Lucky and Charm are both fine,” Rick chuckles. “Wet, angry, but fine. Floorboards, not so much.”

“Oh, scandalous,” Drew jokes lightly. He pauses, hears voices outside drawing closer. “19 days.”

“19 days,” Rick confirms. “19 days until I get to kiss your beautiful face and hug you for a month straight.”

Drew ducks his head, bashful at the compliment. “Beautiful face...right.”

“Gorgeous boy, stunning man, handsome boyfriend,” Rick rattles off a list of compliments that he knows make Drew blush madly, a breath of laughter coming at the end.

“Stop it,” Drew mumbles, and Rick knows he’s smiling.

The door flap of the tent flips open and Drew tenses, quickly mumbling into the phone. “Gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.” Rick replies. “Talk later, still?”

“Of course,” Drew confirms, and then hangs up. He stuffs his phone into his pocket just as the group of men draw closer and plop down at the single table inside the tent.

“Who ya calling, Drew?” One, Tod, asks. “Booty call?”

Drew snorts. “No, just...a friend.”

Gregory narrows his eyes, “Nope, Tod’s right. Booty call. See that blush?”

Drew is totally gonna kill Rick.

...


End file.
